


Hell's Home, You Suppose

by CalsLaundry



Series: You Suppose [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Choking, Restraints, without pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalsLaundry/pseuds/CalsLaundry
Summary: -The first thing you’d noticed when you’d gotten to Hell is how loud it was. Home had been so peaceful.You missed the birds, the crackle of fire, the gentle click of the door when Alastor came home.Alastor.He had to be here, you had no reservations in saying so. You’d never been under any impression that what he was doing was correct. And you figured that’s why you were here.-
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Series: You Suppose [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665751
Comments: 29
Kudos: 274





	Hell's Home, You Suppose

**Author's Note:**

> I've never gotten such an enthusiastic response nor so much demand for a follow up for a story, and I can't even begin to thank you guys enough. I hope part 2 lives up to the expectations!

Hell has its perks, you suppose.

_ But when does the screaming get more tolerable? _

The first thing you’d noticed when you’d gotten to Hell is how loud it was. Home had been so peaceful.

You missed the birds, the crackle of fire, the gentle click of the door when Alastor came home.

_ Alastor _ .

He had to be here, you had no reservations in saying so. You’d never been under any impression that what he was doing was correct. And you figured that’s why you were here. 

When you woke up dead, you wondered for a while why the world was so different. The sky was a horrible red, screams crept through every alley, and you’d woken mid-extermination. Though that part you learned later. You roamed endlessly, almost blissfully ignorant of the world around you. It took weeks to understand where you were at all.

First, it is all the fun parts of life wrapped in vivid red packing. It could have been heaven, with all the luxuries and vices you once enjoyed in the land of the living. Walking through the streets, you watched all manner of creatures-demons, really-pass you by. You had wondered why they didn’t stare at you, why they didn’t question your presence as the most human of all of them. A sneaking glance in a window pane ushered realisation; the human in you was gone, had twisted into some fiendish caricature of who you once were. Some details were there, small scars and scratches, but you were unrecognisable to you. Even now, you might be a little unrecognisable to you. But life after Alastor had hardened you.

But you can’t even consider how much time has passed. Technology had changed, cars had changed, and those who died after you had filled in the blanks.

You’d gathered allies, made connections, some might even say they were friends. You wondered often why others were here, but you never felt you could ask them. Some you could guess; excess often drew people down here, and you’d made some assumptions on the vices of your new friends. But you wondered how many had seen true horror.

You knew what he’d done. You can’t help but look back at it fondly when you hadn’t enjoyed nearly enough time together. You’d dreamed a million times of him coming through that door once more, blood covered and bright eyed, with a smile as wide as could be. You dreamed of the screams of his victims, the taste of them on his lips, and his excited eyes as he swept you up afterwards.

A car stops up ahead and snaps you from your daydream. You see a familiar spider step out. Angel fixes his hair as he stands tall, and he turns his head as if he knows you’re looking.

“Hey, dollface!”, he makes a drinking movement with his hand and you nod. He reaches you in half the time it would have taken you and you turn towards the nearest bar. There’s a buzz of radio, something old and familiar and wonderful, and you lean on the bar with Angel at your side. He’d been a better friend than any in the time you’ve been here, though you hadn’t yet shared your side of things. He was a little more open, a bit playful about his past in a way you’re not sure you can believe, but he’s company, good company, and you find yourself happier for it.

“Y’know,” you look at him as he speaks into his glass, “I know yer more for the whole...solo act schtick, but you should come by the hotel later. I  _ know _ it’s not your style to make friends and to get more comfortable, but you’ve been here for so long, bout time you found yerself a crew, right?”

“You’re not wrong,” you watch Angel’s lips twitch, “ _ but _ I don’t want any redemption. I doubt I could get it, but I don’t want it.” 

“Y’ever gonna tell me why?”

“If it’s ever important, I will.”

He nods, and downs the last of his whiskey.

“It’s nice. Don’t ever tell ‘em I said that though, they don’t need to know,” he rests his chin in his hand, feigning a bored look but you know deep down, he does like it. Won’t stop his habits though. He likes nothing more than those. 

You cross an “x” over your heart, and he opens his mouth, you can hear the snark in even his breath, but some sound tickles through the static, something that silences the crowd, even Angeldust.

There’s no song or words, only screams, ever increasing in volume. They are screams of real anguish, of immeasurable pain, of unfathomable fear. They bounce from the walls, even Angel shrinks away from them. But they end as quickly as they began, though the silence remains.

“Thank you, dear listeners, for lending your ears. Usually warning would come before such an exuberant broadcast, but this time,” the voice drops an octave, and a shiver tingles through your spine, one you haven’t felt in some time, “the broadcast  _ is _ the warning,” one last sickening  _ snap _ , and the voice returns to its original enthusiasm, “until next time, dear listeners”.

The voice hums a tune but it fades too quick for you to recognise it. Other patrons try to mill back to normal, but a single glance and you can see the discomfort and even nausea in them. Conversation picks back up, but even as Angel speaks to you, your mind dwells on that mysterious voice. And on why it is the most at home you’ve felt since 1933.

*

Angel is curiously silent as he leads you to the hotel. The sign has changed from the once spunky “Happy Hotel” to “Hazbin Hotel”, a strange difference, but who are you to question Hell’s branding opportunities.

“I know I said I liked this place, but just, be warned,” you glance at Angel, whose smile hides something, “the princess? She’s a bit of a handful.” 

He doesn’t knock before he opens the door, and you follow him a few feet back as you take in the surroundings. The decor is a far cry from your cabin, but you wonder if you did stay here, could you make the room a bit more like home?

You snap back to reality when some bright blonde head bobs towards you with the enthusiasm of a Labrador.

“Hi! You must be Angel’s friend, I’m so glad to meet you, he’s told us so much about you, you’re going to love it here!”

You soak her in for a moment then smile.

“You’re the princess then.”

Angel laughs from across the room, and Charlie blushes. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s endearing to see some passion. Just...unexpected.” 

She smiles again, and you follow her as she beckons you towards two others; a grey skinned woman with white hair, and a winged cat. You hold back on your thoughts of how strange they look; you’re hardly the picture of normal.

“This is Husk,” he waves a bottle and goes back to cleaning the bar, “and this is Vaggie,” the two share a look that makes you smile, but your stomach drops a little with jealousy.

“So, Angel didn’t tell us  _ why _ you’re here, but the way we run things is-”

“Charlie, I’m going to stop you right there,” she looks at you in confusion, and Vaggie looks at you with pure rage.

“I’m not here for redemption. I came here because Angel wanted me to meet you. I appreciate the thought,” you glance around and quickly add, “and I do believe you can do it, but I don’t want to move on from here. Not yet, at least.”

“Why? I mean, Hell isn’t...nice”.

“It’s not. But right now, it’s better than the alternative."

“What do you mean?”

You can feel Angel watching you, waiting for any hint at your past.

“Hell has something no other plane has for me. That’s all. I won’t leave without it.” 

“Are you...looking for someone?” Charlie’s face suggest she knows something, but you know it’s the hopeless romantic in her.

“Something like that,” Angel’s eyes meet yours and you make a promise to yourself to tell him more.

“Well then,” she thinks for a moment with her hand on her chin before she breaks into another wide smile, “feel free to stay here while you look for them! Angel, can you show them to one of the free rooms?”

“You got it, princess,” he winks at the cat-Husk, you think his name was-and leads you through the hotel in silence.

“So...yer lookin’ for someone?” 

You feel his eyes burning into your cheek, and you nod. 

“When I was alive, I lived with someone. He...well, he kidnapped me, but didn’t kill me. And then everyone stopped looking for me, but I always knew he never would have stopped. I knew what he was, I’d seen the blood and I’d been listening to the news and I never knew what stopped him killing me, but I loved him. I knew what he did was wrong, and I know he’s here somewhere, but I don’t know where to start. I’ve been looking since I got here, but without a plan. I know he’d never ask for redemption, that’s for sure,” you smile sadly at the thought of your Alastor asking Charlie for help and laughing as he did, “but he’s definitely in Hell. I’m certain.”

“Y’know I’d always wondered why you were down here, y’never seemed like someone bad, but...excusing murder is pretty fuckin’ bad, dollface,” Angel laughs and you join him.

“I wish that’s all I excused.” 

“Oooh deets, what could be more fucked up than kidnap and murder? Torture?!” Angel’s smile is wide and it's nice to be able to talk about Al like this, with this warmth.

“Nope!”

“Well I  _ know _ you’d tell me if he was in my line of work”

“Nope!”

“Go on, tell me!”

“Let’s say...his Jambalaya might have had some more rare meats” you giggle, and Angel pulls a face.

“That’s fuckin’ twisted,” but he laughs, “I love it, go big or go home, at least I know ya won’t be holdin’ my hobbies against me!” 

He slips through a door and you follow. It’s far more than you expected but you’re glad to see a bed you know you can go back to. 

“I’ll leave ya to decorate, ya want anything in particular for in here? Call it a roomwarmin’ present”

“A radio would be nice.”

“That’s pretty vague,” he snorts.

“One from my time, the 20’s, please. I don’t know where you’d find that here, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem, dollface, I figured it was a comfort thing. Though just...well I s’pose it won’t bug ya too much, but be careful of those broadcasts. The one in the bar was somethin’.”

You nod and smile, and he leaves without another word.

The room could be homey with a little work. The radio is a good start.

*

The Hotel is easier to settle into than you expect. The company is good, though you can’t deny it can be a little overwhelming. You’ve spent hours enjoying your room, the dark red walls were more comforting than you’d expected, and Angel had come through with a radio almost exactly like the one from your cabin. As morning peeked over the horizon, the static flickers and wakes you from the last dregs of your slumber. You kept the same channel on all the time, waking up to it felt like you were waking up in your old bed, like you’d roll over to Alastor beside you.

The host rarely spoke, but when he did, it was soothing. Even through the static, it was a voice you could listen to all day. A pang of guilt stabs your stomach; it felt like cheating on Alastor. But you know your doting on this mysterious radio man would die the moment you find your love again.

A knock on the door distracts you, and Charlie peeks around the door.

“Good morning!”

“Morning, Charlie, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just checking in,” she looks nervous, “I just want to warn you that uh…”

“The Strawberry pimp is swingin’ by later! Jesus, Charlie, just say it, not like ya give a fuck anyway, d’ya, dollface?”

You laugh. 

“Not so much, I’m sure this...Strawberry Pimp is wonderful. Should I keep out of their hair?”

“No, he’s just...a lot. He’s uh…”

“He’s a fuckin’ freak. Hot, but fuckin’ weird.”

“Sounds like fun?” You sit up and stand as you stretch your arms over your head. Angel wanders down the corridor without answering and you turn to Charlie in his absence.

“Say, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I make dinner tonight? You’ve been so kind to me, I feel it’s the least I can do.” 

“Please! Yes, that would be amazing!”

Her face says she sees this as a win for her cause. You don’t have the heart to tell her you just have a craving. 

*

By evening, the kitchen is in your hands, and your friends have left you to your devices. You hear the chatter and arguments beyond the door and smile. You sneak a taste and smile, it brings you right back to your cabin. But as you reach for the plates, something makes the hair on your arms stand. Static tickles against your eardrums and sends a shiver down your spine. This must be the “Strawberry Pimp”. Vaggie had referred to him as a Radio Demon, and you figured that mastery of static was what brought that name. You called for Angel through the door-extra hands and all- and placed bowls in each of his hands, including the two he usually kept hidden. You carry the last one, and follow him through the door. 

The Radio Demon certainly caught attention. Dressed in all red with a shock of red hair and fluffy ears, he’d be hard to miss. His smile is far too wide to be...normal, but it doesn’t seem to break. The strange static sound buzzes like wrong frequency as you get closer. You walk by him to get to your chair and put your own bowl down, though you swear he stiffens as you pass.

Nifty is already buzzing with excitement, though it gets the better of her and she slips from the chair she’s on. Angel barks a laugh and Vaggie tries to hide her smile, Nifty herself giggles as she wiggles back onto the chair, though she rubs the bump forming on her forehead.

“You okay, Nifty?”

“Yup! Just excited to eat! I’ll be better in no time!”

You take her bowl as Angel passes it towards you and you put it in front of her with a small pat to her head. 

“You’ll heal better with food in your belly.” 

There’s a sharp clatter and a high pitched sting of static and you notice the Radio Demon staring. His smile is still there, but there’s something strained about it.

All through dinner, you feel his eyes on you. It’s exhausting. As the others chat, you snap your head up, determined to demand he either stop or explain himself, but when your eyes meet his, something clicks in your stomach and you can’t bring yourself to say anything. There’s an intensity there you haven’t seen in other demons, and you can’t. Instead, you look down at your bowl and take the last bite.

“Charlie, did you make this?”

His voice makes your hair stand and you put your cutlery down to play with your fingers idly. 

“No chance,” Charlie laughs. 

“Never knew y’could cook, dollface, I woulda brought ya here sooner if I’d known,”

You smirk at Angel, “and that’s why I didn’t tell you, Ange.”

Vaggie snorts and Angel sticks out his tongue, but this demon is...staring at your hands. His smile falters at the edges, and you wish you could be angry, but all you can do is clasp them shut and stand. 

“Everyone done?” You don’t know why you sound breathless. You collect the bowls and wave away Charlie’s help while Husk goes to grab a bottle of wine as dessert. The door swings behind you, but you don’t turn. There’s a presence at your back, but before you can react, a black gloved hand with sharp red nails grasps your wrist and opens your hand.

“You make a wonderful jambalaya.”

That twinge of guilt returns, along with the pure loss, and you smile sadly.

“I learned from the best.” 

“They must have been wonderful.”

“His mother’s recipe, if I remember right”.

“Hmm,” he leans closer, you can feel the warmth radiating from his cheek. Even in silence, there's a strange buzz of static.

“A nasty scar.”

“Is it?”

“How did it happen?”

You shudder as you remember it, but you hope the Radio Demon doesn’t notice. 

“Knife slipped when I was cooking, nothing too exciting.”

The grip on your wrist tightens, and the static from him is almost deafening. 

“Curious”.

Silence clouds you as he steps back. You’re almost nervous to turn, but you do. He’s terrifying but not in a truly scary way. He looks over you, over and over again. 

“I should have known you’d end up here, you’re a smart one, I remember knowing that you always knew.”

“Excuse me?” the pang in your stomach changes to one of hope, into a bubble of excitement, but you don’t let it show. You try not to at least.

“My dear, you look so vastly different, as do I, but surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t know you, I’ve been looking for far too long, and-” he leans down, nose close to you neck, your heart stutters, “ _ no one  _ smells like you.”

It’s a flurry of motion, something too eager from both of you; he grabs your waist, you grab his shoulders, you’re wrapped in each other, and it takes a moment to realise you’re crying. Through sobs and gasps, you can’t speak, you just cling to him. Here, he’s much taller, his presence is even more intimidating. But you still see your Al. You find words in your throat and mumble against his jacket.

“I can’t believe I found you, I’ve been searching for so long.”

You feel his chest rumble in a small laugh, and his lips press to your hair.

“And I’ve been waiting for you, darling, not that I wanted you dead, I just...wanted you back with me. Where you belong.”

You lean back and cup his cheeks, though it’s more of a stretch now than when he was living, and you simply...take him in. You see your Al in there, but like this, he’s just as beautiful.

“‘Ey, dollface, wha-” Angel stops dead, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he’s speechless. 

“I...THE FUCK IS THIS?!” 

“Angel, why are you screaming?” Charlie’s voice joins him, but she stops dead too.

“What the fuck…”

You know you have an audience, and the last thing you want is for others to see the moment you’ve been waiting for since you got here. You step away from him and mouth “later”, and he nods with an eyebrow raised. 

You’re buzzing at how close he is after all this time, there’s a lump in your throat from pure excitement. You glance at him from time to time, he doesn’t say anything, just watches with the same wide smile. Angel and Charlie are still utterly lost for words.

“Perhaps we should leave the clean up to the staff, darling, after all, you cooked, did you not?”

Alastor raises an eyebrow again, and a flood of shadowy staff erupt from nothing. 

“Is this seriously who y’been looking for?!” 

“Yeah, I gotta say, you’re two people I wouldn’t have...seen together...in any way,” Charlie’s voice is quiet but you can hear her disbelief.

“Oh, been sharing our secret now, have you?”

You poke your tongue out at Alastor.

“Namelessly. If I’d known I was looking for such a popular demon, I’d have given your name soon,  _ deer _ ”

He snorts a laugh.

“You’ve gotten bolder since I last saw you,”

“His influence,” you point at Angel who raises his hands in confusion.

“I should have known,” Alastor chuckles, “though, Angel, that you didn’t think to introduce me to such a delectable morsel is almost criminal”.

“I’ve never seen ya even look at anyone!” 

You raise an eyebrow at Alastor and he looks almost embarrassed. It’s cute. When he looks at you again, you see the question in his eyes. You shake your head, and there’s a spark in him, You know Angel sees it too. He elbows Charlie,

“I think I hear Vaggie callin’ ya”.

“Did she?” 

Charlie leaves, Angel winks at you, and Alastor nods his appreciation before taking your hand.

“You’re staying here?”

You nod, and you don’t say a word as you pull him towards the door.

*

The lock clicks the second you shut the door to your room, and you assume it’s Alastor’s doing.

But you can’t ask.

He pins you to the door and steals your breath with a kiss. His new teeth are sharp, they feel different when you get bold enough to sneak your tongue past his lips and he laughs. 

“Darling, you’re so brave now,”

“I just missed you,” 

“And I missed you, waiting for you was the hardest part about being down here,”

He kisses you again, though with soft sweet kisses that would be chaste if his pointed demon nails weren’t digging into your waist with pure want. 

“I stayed in the cabin,” you gasp between kisses, and you’re met with a soft vibration of a growl against your lips, one of approval. 

He grabs at you, as if making sure you’re really there, you’re really real, this is happening, and you do the same. When he stops kissing you and cups your cheeks between his hands, your heart skips. 

“I promise you,” his eyes soften as he speaks, “with everything in me and with whatever soul I have left, nothing is going to separate us again”.

You nod at every word, but his grip tightens and your head stills.

“I will not lose you again, once was too much.” 

You watch his eyes, and you try to ignore how your stomach twists in sheer excitement and adoration. You put your hands over his-earning a quirk of his brow-and you watch his eyes change again.

“Nothing in heaven or hell or anywhere in between can come between us now,” your words are soft, and he presses his forehead to yours.

“Mine.”

“I’m yours, Alastor” 

He kisses you again, though there’s something new in it. Something like his human self, but unlike him at all, something frantic and uncontrolled and urgent. You feel yourself match his desperation. You push him, back and back until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sits. You’d never have gotten away with it when you were both human, and you laugh. 

“Something funny, my dear?” He’s breathless.

“You never would have let me get away with that before,” 

He laughs, and pulls your knees until you’re straddling his lap.

“Maybe not, but I hadn’t missed you quite so much then,” long fingers cup the back of your neck and he pulls you close, though his fingertips dig in when you try to lean forward to kiss him. 

“While I’ll let you do anything if it means keeping you forever,” his free hand meets your jaw, and he holds you in place. He presses a kiss, one so light you can barely feel it, against your lower lip and you whine, “don’t expect it every time, my love”.

You don’t think you’ll get away with it even this time.

He pulls you forward by the jaw, fingertips still digging into your neck, and kisses you again. Shyly, your fingers trail over his waist and feel at his form. He’s more slender now. The hand on the back of your neck falls to your lower back and he pushes you forward until your chest meets his. There’s a spark of excitement and mischief in you, and your hands trail further until they meet his shoulders. You push him back, and you’re met with a confused flicker in his smile. 

“You said I can get away with a little more”, you say it sweetly, and his smile grows into something mischievous itself. 

“Hmm, I give you an inch and you take a mile,” he chuckles, “but I have new ways to keep you behaved, my beloved”.

His hands are still on your back and jaw, but something else grabs you by the waist and stands you and his hands fall from you as it does. You’re turned and before you can contest, you’re on your back, sideways across the bed with your legs dangling from the side and Alastor is above you, jacket gone, looking like his old self with a sanguine upgrade. 

“Now, you still smell like you,” whatever thing moved you undresses you slowly, and there’s a stir in you at the ease with which it does so, “but there’s so much more I need to know about the new you”.

You don’t speak, you only tilt your head. Now naked before him, you feel as you did before, you don’t care how you are in front of him as long as he is enjoying you. He leans forward, hands folded behind his back, and places a kiss just below your bellybutton, but his lips stay there, and as he speaks, they tickle your skin; “I want to know if you taste as good as I remember”.

His tongue, longer and pointed, drags against you and your back arches. He groans and the sound sends small darts of pleasure through you. 

“I think you might taste even better than before,” you roll your hips against his tongue and he licks another long stripe before placing a soft kiss in the same place.

“I think I’m too impatient to indulge just yet, but believe me,” he nips at your inner thigh, “every day for eternity, I will wake up to that taste”.

He stands tall, and you admire him. But something else catches your eye; his throat, his ribs, his stomach, they’re all marred in soft pink scars. You can’t reach the ones on his neck, but there’s a lump in your own throat at the sight.

You’d never seen him after he died.

You just had to accept the stories. His fingers comb through your hair in an attempt to soothe you and to bring you back to the moment. You lean forward and kiss the scars you can reach and look up at him.

“I’m so glad I have you back,” your words are soft and broken but you swallow your tears and you smother your sadness and all the joy at having him back returns, and your new demanding side reappears, “but now show me what you’ve been wanting to do to me for the last century”.

His smile returns and he doesn’t delay; your back is against the bed, and the weight of him on you is a sensation you never realised you missed so much. He holds your wrists against the bed and he speaks against your jaw as he nips at the skin there.

“Tell me again, darling, how no one has touched you since I last did.”

“Not a soul.” 

“I hope none without a soul either.”

“Of course not, I could never want anyone else.”

He kisses you again, and you feel his length against your leg, though it seems maybe slightly different to before.

The same thing that picked you up and moved you returns, and you feel yourself pinned down though Alastor’s hands leave you. He teases you first; his shaft rubs against you and you shiver, but he does it again and again until you’re whining and he laughs.

Wordlessly, he slips into you, slowly, moreso than ever before, and you let out a soft breath.

He feels so different, but still like himself. 

He thrusts slowly, savouring each response and watching your expressions twist and change. 

“My love,” he sounds breathless already, “these forms, the more...monstrous ones, do you feel they come with any particular...urges,” he thrusts again and you gasp, “or perhaps...more resilience?”

“Alastor,” you swallow and tug against the tentacles curled around your wrists to no avail, “my love, do whatever you want to me, this body can take it, and I want to know  _ everything _ you’ve wanted to do to me. Everything.”

That’s enough.

He kisses you again, and his hips snap. His lips meet your shoulder in a short kiss, his hands grip your hips until his claws pierce your skin and his teeth dig into your shoulder until you feel the skin break and you know Alastor’s lips will be painted red with you. You turn your head, nudge at his face until he looks at you, and you capture his lips. You feel it, just like the first time, blood smears across your lips and when Alastor pulls back and looks at you, you see him fall in love all over again.

With this permission, he bites anywhere he can reach, until your blood streaks both of you and his hips stutter and another tentacle appears from nothing and teases against that same place he found the first time. You squeeze and writhe beneath him, and he knows how close you are, you can feel it. He pulls back and stills his hips, though the teasing against your most sensitive spot doesn’t stop. His smile is gone, just for a moment, as he drinks you in, and you do the same to him. 

Blood covered, he’s truly an image of his old self. But more powerful, more confident, and more beautiful than ever before. His smile creeps back, and he leans forward. He kisses your lips-just once-and stays nose to nose with you as his hips roll again. His rhythm builds slowly back to what it was, and that thing in you tightens, your eyes close and you wait, you know it’s almost there.

Alastor’s hands grip your neck, first loosely, then tighter, then tighter than you’d ever tried. Your body tenses, you moan, and it’s the slightest squeeze that snaps that coil and you moan his name over and over until you feel the same warm spill you’d missed so much. His hands leave your throat, your chests heave together, and he lays beside you.

In a breath, you’re wrapped in his arms, warm and content, feeling more yourself than you ever had since you arrived.

That piece of you was back.

This is where everything gets more tolerable.

Now, you can call Hell home, you suppose.

*

You wake a short while later, Alastor still beside you, breathing you in but not sleeping.

“I don’t sleep so often since I got here, but I think now I may indulge a little”, he presses a small kiss to your nose and you curl into him.

“I would be happy to indulge with you, my love” you kiss his nose in return. You see the faint trace of your Alastor in this one. It’s as if an artist painted over the sketch of who he once was. The lines are still there, but this is him completed . He is more himself than he had ever been. You love every drop of him.

A knock on the door breaks you from your reverie, and you know who it is.

“Angel, can this wait?”

Alastor looks at you, an eyebrow quirked, and you smile.

“No fuckin’ way, I wanna know  _ everything,”  _ the door unlocks, and in the same snap, Alastor becomes fully clothed. Together you sit up, and you hold the blanket against you.

“How did ya not tell me-” he sees Alastor and stops dead. 

“Good evening, Angel! If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Charlie.” He kisses your hair and walks out the door, microphone twirling and humming some old song. 

Angel takes one look at the marks, and when you look in the mirror across the room, you can see that Alastor wasn’t careful about how he marked his property. Though the bite marks are pretty, the bruise of his hands on your throat are a different kind of beautiful.

“Never pegged Al as the kind to leave someone alive after those kinda marks, fuck me, he did a number on ya, dollface” 

You laugh with him, and he makes a face. 

“What?”

“That’s the first real laugh I’ve heard outta ya. I wanted to say uh,” he looks around, just in case anyone might hear a soft thought from him, “I’m glad ya found ‘im. How long’s it been?”

“A century or so,” Angel responds with a low whistle, but you smile, “trust me, it’s worth every second to be back with him.”

He tosses you your clothes as you point at them.

“Of all the fuckin’ people ya fucked when you were alive, ya shacked up with the most powerful demon in hell, fuck me, some people have all the luck!”

You dress yourself under the blankets and slip out. The ache in your hips is a welcome one, but the look that crosses your face is a dead giveaway.

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me his dick is good too, y’can’t have it all, dollface!”

“Ah but I can!” you laugh as he huffs, and Alastor steps around him,

“You can have anything you want, my dear!” Angel joins your giggles at how much Alastor misunderstands, but you let him take your hand and kiss your knuckles. 

“I’ll meet you two downstairs, maybe take it easy on ‘em, Al, dunno if the princess keeps bandages in here,” He leaves and Alastor wraps an arm around you.

“Charlie has been so kind as to accept my request. Though, not really a request, I do have a hand in this establishment,” he laughs but you look at him in confusion.

“What request?”

“Just some renovations, darling. This room is wonderful, but I have requested some more...sentimental changes.”

The room melts away to nothing and rebuilds itself. 

And just like that, you’re back home.

The radio sings with that same static as it did before, and Alastor dons his old shirt and bowtie. He holds a hand to you and you take it. You dance like you did the first night, the night you knew he would be the one who would never stop looking.

You were right.

  
  
  



End file.
